


Mamma Ratchet

by SnowyGriffin



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Ratchet is too old for this, Sparkling antics, Transformer Sparklings, baby robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 06:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12475492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyGriffin/pseuds/SnowyGriffin
Summary: Ratchet finds himself with quite the handful after a relic hunt goes haywire.





	Mamma Ratchet

 

When it mattered, Ratchet had always considered himself to be a fairly patient mech.

“Bulkhead! I _needed_ that!” He exclaimed.

In his field, a calm composure and steady hands were absolutely mandatory.

“Young mech, get that out of your mouth _this instant_!”

And after so many millennia, he liked to believe that he had both seen and dealt with it all. He had built his fortress of resolve and there were few things, if any, that could penetrate it.

“By the Allspark, what is that _smell_!?”

But, as few and far in between as they were, there were still times when even he had to admit that his resolute temper was no match for the situation at hand.

“ **OPTIMUS**!” He roared.

“Yes, my friend?” Came Optimus’ well-composed response as he emerged from the shadows, as though he’d been there the entire time.

Ratchet narrowed his optics as he glared up at the towering mech with the intensity of an irate Predacon. Whether or not it was a trick thanks to his overworked processor he couldn’t be sure, but he could’ve sworn he saw the slightest upwards curl at the corners of the Prime’s mouthplate. However, he decided to let it be for now as he quickly flew into yet another heated rant.

“Have you heard _anything_ yet?” He demanded. “It’s been _two days_ and there’s only so much more of this I can take” He stated as he gestured beside him.

On the ground just several feet away from them were miniaturized versions of the rest of the team. Arcee was attempting to scale up the scaffolding leading up to the second floor. Bulkhead had preoccupied himself with playing with the remnants of what had once been one of Ratchet’s microscopes. Smokescreen had somehow managed to get into the garbage and was currently throwing whatever he picked up. And, the smallest of the four, Bumblebee, was engaged with the little toy car Raph had left behind.

“Ultra Magnus has reported that he and Wheeljack are still searching for the final component of the serum. They seem no closer than they were yesterday,” Optimus replied.

With a longsuffering ex-vent, Ratchet threw his servos in the air. “Of course they’re not,” He groused. “The _one_ time we finally managed to uncover a relic before the Decepticons, it turns out to be some sort of…. _Sparkling Gas_.” He struggled to find a more proper term to describe the “relic” the team had unearthed. There was little to no information about it in the archives. Taking into account the nonexistent resistance they received while tracking it, there was no doubt in Ratchet’s processor that this had all been some convoluted plan schemed up by Megatron himself. Yet, the strangest thing out of all of this was the fact that the Decepticons had gone eerily quiet ever since. One would’ve assumed that Megatron would have struck while their forces were weakened. Optimus logically concluded that the warmonger was simply biding his time in order to strengthen his own army. Ratchet, on the other hand, felt as though this was Megatron’s twisted way of personally tormenting him.

He wasn’t sure which was worse.

Ratchet was about to continue with his tirade when he suddenly spotted Arcee precariously dangling from the edge of the metal landing upstairs. “ _Primus_!” He swore before he quickly darted over right in time to catch her in his servo.

“Little femme, there are some places you weren’t meant to climb,” He reprimanded as he set the small two-wheeler down.

Right as he attempted to return to Optimus, his optics widened when he noticed Bulkhead attempting to put a small green glowing tube into his intake. The orange and white ambulance instantly bounded over to the mini wrecker and snatched up the tube.

“We do _not_ put unknown glowing things in our mouth, Bulkhead.”

When he saw the threatening sign of cleansing fluid well up in Bulkhead’s optics, a slight expression of worry crossed Ratchets face as he looked around. “U-Uhh...Here! Play with this.” He quickly handed the green sparkling one of his small wrenches, which the miniature sized Autobot plucked up happily and began to gnaw on.

Sighing in relief, Ratchet opened his mouth to speak, but let out a surprised yelp instead when a sticky projectile struck the side of his helm. “What the-” He didn’t have to wonder long who his assailant was as the mischievous giggles of a particular blue and yellow mech reached his audial. “Smokescreen…” He growled out. Nevertheless, he shuttered his optics and attempted to calm the growing storm within him as he all but stormed over to a much too entertained Optimus.

“Something you find funny?” Ratchet accused darkly.

The medic’s threatening tone did little to dampen the Prime’s amusement as he gazed down at Ratchet, his mouth almost completely tilted into a small smirk. “Not at all, old friend,” He replied breezily.

“You know, I could use a little help around here,” He huffed as he folded his arms across his chassis.

Optimus looked at the group of sparklings thoughtfully for a moment before his gaze returned to Ratchet. “Are you certain? You seem to have things under control.”

The medic barked out a mocking laugh at that. “Under control?” He repeated. “How does _this_ look ‘under control’ to you!?” He asked with a wild gesture of his servos. “I’ve been running myself ragged trying to keep up with these wannabe scraplets. Bumblebee is the _only_ well-behaved one, and he’s supposed to be the _youngest_!”

Though hardly noticeable to anyone else, the medic could tell that the Prime before him was using every ounce of will he had to prevent himself from laughing. And that certainly didn’t help his temper. Noticing this, Optimus attempted to school his face into a more neutral expression. Though, his smile remained.

“As much as I wish to help you, Ratchet, I must continue my efforts to decode the remaining relic coordinates,” He explained as gently as possible in an attempt to not further raise Ratchet’s ire. “Perhaps I could contact the children to-” At that, Ratchet instantly cut him off.

“There’s no way in the Pit I’m going to ask the children for help, even if they weren’t in school. I already have four younglings to look after. I don’t need seven.” The kids were difficult enough to watch over by themselves. Ratchet shuddered to think the sorts of unholy chaos Miko and a sparkling Bulkhead would get into.

He was instantly pulled out of his inner turmoil when he felt a large yet gentle servo rest on his shoulder. “I have the utmost faith in you, my dear medic. We will find a solution to this” He reassured with such genuine honesty that Ratchet couldn’t find it within him to be upset. “In the meantime, I know you will do what you do best.” As Optimus turned to leave, Ratchet found himself staring at the red and blue mech’s retreating figure longingly before turning a sideways glance at his temporarily young charges.

“I wish _I_   knew what I did best…” He murmured.

 

* * *

 

Ratchet had quickly grown a new appreciation for television.

As he glanced over from his workstation, it was a blessed sight to his sore optics when he noticed that Bulkhead, Bumblebee and Arcee were all but entranced with whatever colorful gibberish was playing on the screen.

Smokescreen, however, was a different case entirely.

The little sports car was restless as he seemed to quickly grow bored with staring at the screen and began to harass the black and yellow bot next to him. He chirped and beeped insistently at the smaller bot in their nonsensical sparkling chatter. But, it was clear that Bumblebee simply wanted to stay put and watch what was on the screen, if the clipped chirps and constant shaking of his helm was anything to go by.

Not thinking much of it, Ratchet lowered his attention back to his task at hand. He was halfway through cutting through a metal tube with his soldering iron when a sharp, high-pitched wail pierced the air. The medic started and nearly burnt himself as the torch dropped from his servos as he looked back up towards the children’s sitting area to see Smokescreen lightly pulling at one of Bumblebee’s doorwings.

“Hey!” He called out sharply, effectively startling the sparklings that weren’t currently enrapt with the TV. The medic marched over to the railing where a highly distressed Bumblebee reached up with pleading warbles. Ratchet didn’t hesitate to pick up the little muscle car as he turned a disapproving frown down to the surprised rookie. “You should know better,” He ground out before turning away and walking back over to his workbench.

Bee’s soft whining beeps had subsided the instant Ratchet took him into his arms. Though, he was still clearly upset as cleansing fluid continued to stream from his optics. Ratchet gently sat the little scout down on the bench’s surface to make sure no true damage had been done to the sparkling's sensitive doorwings. After making sure said appendages were fine, he attempted to comfort the young bot.

“It’s okay, Bumblebee. Smokescreen...just has too much energy for his own good,” He murmured with a small shake of his head. Looking down into the black and yellow mech’s large round optics, Ratchet simply couldn’t resist as his servos practically moved on their own accord and gently lifted the little bot into his arms once again.

“Come on. You can sit with me.”

Ratchet found he didn’t mind abandoning his previous task of repairing his tools as he, instead, took a seat in one of the large makeshift chairs an adult Bulkhead had crafted and read through some long-abandoned research on one of his data pads. He also found that he didn’t mind when Bee would occasionally reach out a small servo and curiously poke the screen with a soft series of beeps in a vain attempt to read what was displayed. After a while, Ratchet began to read to the tiny bot in his lap, knowing full well that what he was saying was the equivalent of gibberish to the sparkling. He didn’t care in the slightest.

He raised his helm curiously when he heard a beep that hadn’t emitted from Bumblebee and glanced down upon feeling something brush against his pede. Smokescreen stood there almost shyly and appeared successfully chastised for his earlier antics. Bumblebee looked down as well when Smokescreen let out another beep only to frown when he saw who it was, apparently still holding a grudge. The blue and yellow sparkling looked up at both of them with wide optics, looking as sorry as a sparkling could convey. With a couple more timid beeps, he lifted up an object he had hidden behind his back; a toy yellow car. Ratchet saw how Bumblebee’s optics widened at the sight and he gently lowered him to the ground when the little scout raised his arms in a silent request to be put down. He was visibly wary as he stood in front of Smokescreen, but as the little rookie offered him the car with an inquiring chirp, Bumblebee took the car with a smile brighter than the Earth’s sun.

As both sparklings ran off together with matching trills of excitement, Ratchet was unaware of the warm smile that had settled on his face. He had assumed that numerous centuries of fighting, war, and death had hardened him to almost anything. But if that hadn’t been the most sparkwarming sight he’d ever seen, then he welcomed The Unmaker to strike him down on the spot.

If he hadn't known any better, he could’ve sworn he was starting to like this.

 

* * *

 

Feeding time, surprisingly, went without a hitch. He may have felt all the more drained because of it, but he also felt oddly satisfied.

Finally, after ceaseless hours, Ratchet was finally able to relax as he laid the tiny mechs inside the makeshift sparkling berth - or, as the humans would call it, crib - for a good recharge. Arcee had nestled herself underneath one of the blankets. Bulkhead was comfortably sprawled out atop one of the pillows. And Smokescreen and Bumblebee were curled up next to each other, their doorwings twitching every so often as they rested blissfully.

The ambulance was so captivated with watching the sparklings sleep that he hardly noticed the large pair of strong arms that encircled his waist from behind.

“I knew you could do it,” A deep voice murmured next to his finial. Ratchet tensed for the briefest moment before relaxing against the larger figure.

“I’m glad one of us did,” He replied dryly.

With a soft, rumbling chuckle, Optimus gently spun Rachet around in his arms so that they were directly facing each other. The red and blue semi gazed down at the shorter medic with one of his rare genuine smiles, one that Ratchet knew was saved just for private moments like these.

“You never do give yourself enough credit, old friend.” Right as they began to lean into each other, they were suddenly startled apart by the proximity alarm blaring throughout the base. Swiftly, Ratchet scrambled over to the control panel and slammed his servo on the off switch. He fearfully turned his helm to gaze over into the crib only to ex-vent in relief when he saw that the sparklings were still asleep.

Yet, the silence didn’t last long.

“Hey, doc!” Wheeljack announced as he and Ultra Magnus stepped into the main hall not moments later. “Guess what we’ve got for ya-”

The medic made a frantic silencing gesture as he held up a finger and shushed the reckless engineer. “ _Quiet, Wheeljack!_ ” He whispered harshly. “They _just_ fell into recharge.”

“My bad, sunshine. No need to get testy,” He apologized with a lopsided smirk as he raised his hands in an appeasing matter. “Just thought you’d like to know that I managed to complete the antidote,” He stated with a proud grin.

“With no small amount of explosions to show for it,” Ultra Magnus muttered.

“Really? ...Already?” Ratchet found himself asking in surprise. However, he quickly caught himself at the curiously questioning gazes he received in return. “I mean...you made it sound as though it would take a lot more time. Are you sure it’s ready?”

“As sure as the cycle is long,” Wheeljack replied in his typical self-assured cockiness.

“If it is of any consolation, Ratchet, I, too, can attest that the antidote is ready. We followed the formula to the letter,” Optimus’ S.I.C reported.

Ratchet fell silent for several long moments as he turned to gaze at the sparklings still snoozing inside the crib. As much of a shock as it was, he knew, deep down, that he’d miss this. The thought of having offspring of his own had always seemed a faraway dream, and now even more so, thanks to the war. He hadn’t even considered himself capable of taking care of younglings outside of their basic medical needs. But, right now, as he stared down at the innocently slumbering tiny mechs before him, he found himself wishing for that dream to become reality.

“Ratchet?” The Prime’s firm yet concerned tone drew Ratchet out of his inner musings. With a slight shake of his head to focus his thoughts, he turned his attention back to Wheeljack.

This was no time for fantasies. It had been nothing short of a blessing that they hadn’t been attacked during this fiasco and he certainly wasn’t going to jeopardize things by hesitating.

So, with an affirming nod, he stepped forward.

“Alright then.”

\-----------------

Setting up the isolation chamber had been the easy part. The task that proved the most difficult was actually getting the sparklings to stay inside. Eventually, it got to the point where Ratchet decided to once again put the sparklings inside the crib and simply place it inside of the chamber.

In theory, it seemed like a good idea. But, after he flipped the switch to filter in the antidote…

Well, he supposed things could’ve turned out worse.

“Why can’t I move?”

“ _Ow!_ Bulkhead! You’re sitting on me!”

“Get your servo outta my chassis!”

 **::** _Move your pede off my face!_ **::**

Just like that, everything was back to normal. Business as usual. And, thankfully, none of them remembered a thing.

Ratchet thanked the Allspark for small miracles.

 

* * *

 

As a long day of catching up on neglected work and reassigning tasks passed, Ratchet wearily made his way to his quarters. He wasn’t surprised to see Optimus already deep in recharge on the berth inside; he had stayed up much after everyone else had turned in.

Once he took a step inside, something on the floor caught his optics. Leaning down to pick up said object, he saw that it was a datapad with a note attached to it:

 _‘Here’s a lil' surprise for ya, doc. No thanks necessary.’_ \- Wheeljack

Raising an optic ridge in curiosity, Ratchet made his way over to the opposite side of the berth and took a seat on the edge as he turned on the pad.

The screen flickered to life and played what seemed to be a recording taken just a couple hours ago, according to the timestamp. The medic watched in no small amount of interest as Megatron stood nearby watching over a group of worker drones as they gradually began to dig up something. Suddenly, an oddly familiar silver canister was revealed from the dirt underneath, and as one of the Vehicons attempted to pick it up, a cloud of gas erupted from the container. Megatron had barely stumbled back out of the blast radius in time. As the smoke began to settle, multiple sparkling-sized Vehicons had replaced the grown mechs previously standing there just moments ago. The warmonger looked around, shock and rage evident on his face as one could practically see him put the pieces together. It didn’t take Megatron long to figure out what had happened and he let out a ferocious roar of rage.

Ratchet felt a cathartic grin settle on his face as he watched the scene unfold. Placing the datapad on the small table next to the berth, he settled himself against his Prime’s side as he rested his helm against his chassis. As he felt Optimus’ arm subconsciously wrap around him, he instantly felt himself beginning to drift off, lulled by the gentle hum of the spark underneath his finial and the servo holding him protectively.

Regardless of what the future held, he knew he’d sleep well that night.

 

\- The End -

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not only is this my first Transformers fic, but this is also my very first fanfiction that I've both finished AND published. *cries tears of joy*
> 
> Thanks so much for reading. Please let me know what you think!


End file.
